A Study in Magic
by showalittlefaith
Summary: Oliver should have found an ally in John Constantine in his battle against Damien Dark. After all, it takes magic to fight magic. So what if Oliver had managed to recruit the demonologist, what would change? Takes place after the Arrow epiosde "Haunted"
1. The Proposal

**AN** : Yes the dreaded author's note… I'll keep this short. This is my first time writing for the Arrow or Constantine fandoms, so please be patient with me. Oliver may seem OC, but since I'm diverging from Arrow, I think I can have a bit of liberty with him.

 **Disclaimer** : No I don't own any of the characters within this story. I'm just taking Constantine out on a test ride because _someone_ thought it was a good idea to cancel his show.

Picks up after the Arrow/Constantine crossover "Haunted". Would recommend watching it considering I just jumped straight to dialogue, but not necessary.

* * *

Chapter One

...

...

"What's going on here Oliver?" Constantine asked, dark eyes peering knowingly at the tall vigilante. "The hairs on the back of me neck have been standing up since I stepped foot in this crummy ol' town".

Oliver shuffled his feet awkwardly, trying to avoid eye contact with the deceptively slight man before him. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, John," he started hesitantly. "This isn't the end of my favor, I need you to do one more thing for me and it's not small."

"What, and you thought what I just did was small?" Constantine shot back incredulously. "Hate to break it to you mate, but there's very few magicians who could have restituted* a soul like that."

"John, please," Oliver started.

"No," Constantine cut off firmly. "I'm sorry mate, but my debt's paid. Any other time, maybe I'd help you out but I've got problems of my own. With the rising darkness, I don't have time to take up yours as well." The demonologist turned his back, hands buried deep in his pockets, clearly with every intention of walking away. However he stopped outside the elevator, not done with his rant just yet. "I only agreed to help you now because I owed you and you seemed desperate. And never let it be said that John Constantine doesn't pay his debts. But don't get greedy with me Oliver, I don't have patience for that sort of none sense".

"It has to do with Damien Dark."

Constantine froze then swore vehemently.

" So, you've heard of him then?" Oliver asked softly.

There was a pregnant pause, then Constantine spun around completely, trench coat billowing out behind him. "Of course I've bloody 'eard of him," the Exorcist growled as he stalked past Oliver. "Every magician worth his salt knows of him, and those that wish to live know better than to get involved with him."

"Please John, we need your help. No matter what I do, he's always one step ahead of me. He's playing by a set of rules I don't even understand. I can't defeat him like this."

"I'm sorry mate, truly I am, but this," Constantine gestures around him. "Star City, Damien Dark… None of this is my concern, it's not my fight. There's bigger things afoot and I've got much bigger fish to fry."

Oliver shook his head emphatically and locked eyes with the exorcist. "No, John, you don't understand. Dark's plans are bigger than just Star City, he plans to destroy the world. He sees humanity as an evil scourge upon the Earth that must be wiped out. He intends to start civilization over again with his "genesis" program. There are no bigger fish to fry. If you don't help us stop Dark, there will be no one left for you to save. All the sacrifices we've made, all the people we've saved, it will mean nothing. Those who gave their lives for us because they believed in what we are doing, they will have died for nothing."

Silence fell over the room in a thick blanket after Oliver's impassioned speech. Fighting the overwhelming urge to look away, Oliver continued the strange starring battle that had taken resistance between the two men. Finally, Constantine's eyes shifted away from Oliver's and he sighed. "Cor blimey, you've really gotten yourself in a situation here, haven't you?"

"I'm sorry, its like you said, this isn't your fight. But I don't have a choice. The only way to defeat magic is -"

"With magic, yeah I know the bloody saying." Constantine spat out, angrily lighting a cigarette in agitation and pacing furiously.

Oliver watched the Brit closely, but despite the theatrics, Constantine was surprisingly hard to read. _Well, it's now or never_ , Oliver thought to himself. With bated breath, he laid his cards on the table. "So will you help us?"

Constantine heaved a mighty sigh and hunched his shoulders up with, what, deliberation? Annoyance? Dread? Oliver shook his head slightly, he was really having a hard time reading the damned demonologist. Before he had time to really ponder the question, Constantine shook his shoulders and straighten, shooting Oliver a look. "Well it's not like I've got much of a choice, now do I?" he asked with a sardonic smirk.

"So you'll help us then?" Oliver smiled, unable and frankly unwilling to hide the relief in his voice. So what if he was coming off a little desperate, Oliver pondered. He _was_ desperate, and now certainly wasn't the time to worry about his pride.

"Aye mate, I'll help you,' Constantine answered despondently, glancing around the room as if it was the last time he'd see it. Suddenly, a smirk struck his lips and Constantine's eye light with a dark humor. "Just know that if we somehow manage to wiggle out of this one alive, you'll be the one owing me a favor, eh? I've got a reputation to maintain, can't have people thinking they can rent me out for free like some poor prostitute, now can I?"

Slightly unnerved by the sudden change in behavior, Oliver could only nod.

"Good. Well in that case, glad to be on board mate. Now I suppose it's time to meet those lovely birds you call a team. Honestly Oliver, if you had told me you had such a sweet setup, I would have offered up my services ages ago." With another enigmatic smirk, the exorcist brushed past the silent vigilante and meandered his way up the stairs.

As Oliver watched the demonologist saunter up the stairs back to the main level of the lair, looking far too much like the proverbial cat about to finally get the cream, he felt a sense of dread wash over him. Oliver merely clenched his jaw at the foreboding feeling; while he had every respect for Constantine's talents in the mystical arts after their encounter on the island, Oliver was all too aware that he didn't really know the exorcist at all. Constantine may turn out to be their salvation or he may very well end up the death of them all. Yet somehow, Oliver had the feeling Constantine wouldn't be so black and white. Team Arrow was in for a rough ride ahead, and Oliver could only hope he made the right decision bringing the trench coated Brit on board.

Suddenly Oliver heard indignant shouting coming from upstairs.

 _Of course_ , Olivier thought helplessly as he made his way up the stairs to defuse whatever situation Constantine had already started, _we might save Dark the trouble and destroy ourselves first._

*Ok not a real word, but Constantine called the spell a "restitutionism" so I'm stumped

* * *

AN: Drop me a review, let me know what you thought. I'm not confident in either of these fandoms, hence why this chapter is so short. Consider this a test run of sorts. Reviews keep me writing though, so let's hear it.

Cheers and thanks for reading! Hope it wasn't too rough.


	2. A Matter of Trust

AN: Well here's a rare treat, two chapters in a row. Don't get used to this, it rarely ever happens

Disclaimer: Like always, I don't own any of these characters. I'm just playing with them for a bit

* * *

Chapter Two: Trust

...

...

Olivier trudged up the stairs, his feet surprisingly heavy with dread as he heard the angry voices growing louder with every step. _Would it kill John to play nice for once,_ he thought to himself in frustration. Just once, just long enough for him to introduce the exorcist to the team. Its not like they weren't already annoyed with him for making decision without consulting them or anything.

"No! Absolutely not!" The angry voice of Felicity Smoak filtered down the stairs. Unsurprisingly, Oliver felt a headache coming on. While he loved the feisty blonde with all his heart, even he knew better than to get on her bad side. Apparently John Constantine had the self-preservation skills of a fly being drawn to a bug zapper.

Too soon for his liking, Oliver was standing at the top of the stairs, a thin door the only thing separating him from the certain madness beyond. As one could expect, the shouting match seemed even louder up here and Olivier couldn't help but wonder, yet again, if this had all been a mistake. Still there was no helping it now, and as he pointed out to the demonologist earlier, he had no choice. Oliver merely groaned again and pushed open the door, fighting the urge to cover his ears as the rancor blossomed into its fullest.

"No!" An unbelievably red faced Felicity was growling through clenched teeth. "For the last time, take it outside! You can't smoke in here!" The intensity of the glare she sent the trench coated Brit had even Oliver shuddering slightly, but the exorcist didn't even seem to notice.

"Aw but its cold out there, luv. You wouldn't want me to freeze just for a little shag, now would you?" Constantine practically crooned, giving off an air that this whole conversation was really beneath him and that the blonde should just be thankful that he was even responding to her. "Besides, what do you have against ciggys? They're one of the few pure things left in this wretched world," Constantine took a draw out of his cigarette and held it up admirably in the light.

"I don't care if you freeze," Felicity hissed. "Those things are disgusting. They poison your body, destroy your lungs, and they stink."

Constantine glanced at the enraged blonde in mock horror. Flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette, the Brit prepared to launch into a lengthy explanation defending the merits of his favorite pastime. He was cut off by Dig before he even had a chance to begin.

"What are you even doing here man?" Diggle asked in exasperation, arms crossed as he starred down the smaller man.

Constantine let out a huff. "Well, last I checked, that pretty bird," he gestured towards Sara, "didn't have a soul. Oh wait a minute," Constantine pretended to examine Sara from afar, "she does. Yeah, I wonder who managed that little trick. You know, a little bit of appreciation wouldn't go amiss. That was no easy spell I did for you there, and there aren't many who could have pulled it off."

Constantine scanned the unamused faces around him and scowled. "Although, I could just reserve the spell. Exorcisms are so much easier then restitutisms , you see."

Team Arrow froze at the declaration, Laurel taking a defensive stance over her sister.

"Don't you dare," the Black Canary snarled. "Don't you even touch her."

Constantine took a step forward, wiggling his fingers ominously. Of course, _he_ knew that he couldn't possibly conjure magic like that, but seeing how _they_ didn't know that, it got his point across nicely. _Even if it does make me feel like a bloody wanker,_ the magician thought to himself.

"Enough!" Oliver exclaimed from his place by the stairs _,_ hoping to diffuse the situation before it got even more out of hand. _If such a thing is even possible at this point,_ he mused.

"I invited him," Oliver stated firmly to his teammates, leaving no room for argument. "He's going to help us fight Damien Dark and save the city."

Silence followed his declaration as the team eyed Constantine warily.

"What right did you have," Diggle started furiously, turning on Oliver. "You don't lead this team anymore Oliver, you don't get to make decisions like this without consulting us."

Oliver opened his mouth to defend himself, only this time he was cut off by Laurel.

"You're such a hypocrite," she cried out. "You get angry at us for keeping secrets to protect those we love, when you're the one with all the secrets! I mean, magic, Oliver? You knew what Dark was from the beginning, yet you didn't tell us. And now you're just going to invite him into our lives without even asking us?"

"Laurel, he saved your sister," Oliver responded softly.

"Yes, he did and I'm grateful for that," she shot a look at Constantine. "But you can't keep making all the decisions Oliver. He's not part of the team, and we don't trust him. What if he turns out to be just like Damien Dark? How well do you even know him?"

"I told you, I met him on Lian Yu," Oliver answered quickly, hoping to silence her before she could offend Constantine and the mage decided that Oliver's debt wasn't worth all this.

"Right, Lian Yu," Laurel rolled her eyes sarcastically. "And tell me, what exactly happened on that island?" Laurel paused for a moment. "Oh that's right, you wont tell us." She turned away in disgust, crouching to comfort her unconscious sister.

Yet another uncomfortable silence fell over the group after Laurel's outburst. Oliver scrutinized his team. Diggle still hadn't moved, starring down Constantine as if daring the exorcist to make his move. The mistrust and anger was clear on his face.

Felicity stood up straight, arms crossed as she did her best to appear intimidating alongside Diggle. It was obvious who she sided with.

Laurel was a lost cause, too caught up with the well being of her sister to contribute more than her one outburst.

Thea though, Oliver peered closely at his sister, seemed torn. She shifted from foot to foot, a clear sign she was uncomfortable with what was happening, but not confident enough to openly disagree with the team. She wanted to side with her brother and the admittedly cute Brit, but magic was uncharted territory. If she was completely honest with herself, magic scared her.

Finally, Oliver turned to the demonologist in question. Constantine didn't even appear fazed by the argument taking place around him. He pulled out his lighter and lite another cigarette, smirking at Felicity as she ground her teeth. Taking a long draw, the Brit locked eyes with Oliver, the question clear in his dark gaze. _Well,_ it seemed to say, _are you going to do anything about this?_

Oliver merely stared back, unsure of how to fix the situation.

Constantine rolled his eyes with a huff. "Alright then," the Brit started, pulling his trench coat tighter around him. "It seems I've found myself in the middle of a family feud. That's all right though, would hardly be the first time," he winked at Felicity, slinking up to her. She grimaced in disgust. The demonologist shrugged and started pacing the room, aware that every eye was on him. "Oliver wasn't lying, I meant him on that god forsaken island with the intent of recovering the Eye of Horus, an ancient and powerful artifact. Naturally I recovered that pretty lil thing without a hitch". This time it was Oliver's turn to roll his eyes, as Constantine shot him a knowing grin.

"But I suppose that's all in the past now anyways," the exorcist mused. "In the end, it doesn't matter whether you trust me or not. You're wary of magic, as you should be, but understand that this isn't your world. You have no idea what Damien Dark is capable of or how deep his power really runs." He paused dramatically. "So be angry at Oliver all you want, but know this. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here. And without me, you'd all be dead by the end of the week. Dark is just playing with you now. If he truly wanted you dead, trust me, you'd be dead."

Constantine ended his spill harshly and finally came to a stop in front of Diggle, knowing the broad man was the key to convincing the others. There was no time to baby this bunch, if they were to have any hope of surviving Damien Dark, he needed to get them on board fast.

Diggle stood silently for a moment longer, eyes scouring over the Brit for any sign of deceit. Apparently as satisfied as he was going to get, Diggle sighed.

"Alright man. I may not like it, but if Oliver can trust you, I suppose we can too."

Constantine nodded, accepting the logic. After all, they didn't have to like or trust him, he just needed the idiots to listen to him.

"So what's the grand plan then," Diggle asked. "How do you plan to destroy this bastard?"

Constantine shook his head with a slight laugh. "Oh I have no idea, mate", he took another long draw of his cigarette. "Frankly, I didn't really expect to get this far," he smirked.

Diggle's fingers twitched and for a moment, Oliver thought the man was going to reach out and strangle the Brit.

Oliver simply looked to the ceiling in exasperation, and massaged his temples gently. He could feel another headache coming on.

* * *

AN: Does the sheer amount of dialogue bother anyone else? I'm afraid this feels more like a transcript than an actual story... let me know what you think. I'm very open to constructive criticism.

Thanks for reading!


	3. A New Light

Huge thanks to everyone who reviewed, I promise I haven't been ignoring you guys. Y'all reminded me that I even had a story out here and that it was apparently worth finishing. So thank you all so so much.

I started my first semester at college this year and I'm afraid all the writing just wore me out. Thankfully, winter break let me catch my breath so here it is, chapter three. Thanks for the patience and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Three: A New Light

...

...

After that tense initial greeting, things started to cool down in the Arrow Cave - sort of. The team still didn't trust Constantine, that much was clear. They avoided his company like the metaphorical plague, sending him wary and distrustful glances when they thought he couldn't see. Yet, if the demonologist noticed the slights and poorly concealed whispers, he didn't seem bothered. He stood alone in the corner, quietly smoking his cigarette and fingering the peacock feather he made Felicity get him.

As an outside observer, Oliver couldn't help but admire how the insults just slid off the man like water on a duck. For even on Lian Yu, the demonologist's ability to keep a cool head had surprised Oliver. It was a skill Oliver always knew he needed to work on; still, he hoped he could one day achieve it without the biting sarcasm that appeared to be Constantine's natural form of speech.

This current stalemate arose after Team Arrow - Oliver still grit his teeth at the name - decided to move Sara to a more comfortable spot off the floor. Shortly after the first meeting tapered off into silence, Laurel had softly asked for help moving her sister onto a forgotten couch, pushed against the back wall. While the piece had certainly seen better days, Oliver had to admit that it was surely more comfortable than the cold floor.

However, of course moving her had started a whole new bout of drama - Constantine offering to help move the deceptively heavy woman and Laurel practically growling at him to keep his distance. Oliver quickly intervened, pulling Constantine to the side to ask some dumb question or another regarding Sara's condition. To be honest, he couldn't even remember what he had said but it seemed to do the job, averting yet another disaster in the Arrow Cave as the demonologists spouted off about the dangers of dark magic and other obscure warnings. To be fair, Oliver knew he should have been paying attention. After all, he already gathered that Constantine wasn't one to regularly share his plans or knowledge with others, especially if he had already explained it once before.

 _Felicity would surely have something to say about the irony that I of all people picked up on that_ , Oliver thought goodnaturedly. Nevertheless, Oliver couldn't spare Constantine the necessary attention. Playing mediator was quickly becoming a full time job. _I wonder if I could put this on my resume_ , Oliver mused with helpless amusement.

That exchange was what ultimately what led them to their current situation - Team Arrow glaring daggers in the demonologist's back while said man steadfastly ignored them.

 _What we need,_ Oliver pondered, _is something to bring everyone together. Something that proves Constantine isn't a threat, that he can be trusted… but how?_

Contemplating the thought, Oliver peered at Thea across the room. She had remained uncharacteristically silent through both exchanges, probably torn between siding with her teammates verses her brother. Absently, he wondered if he could rely on her to break the tension.

As if feeling his thoughtful gaze on her, Thea looked up and caught her brother's eyes. Oliver made a slight motion for her to come over to him, but she merely shook her head, holding her arms tightly across her chest.

While she trusted Ollie to the ends of the Earth and deep-down believed the strange trench-coated man wanted to help, she didn't want to pick sides. It wasn't easy to become part of the team - to be accepted and trusted after everything she had done. And the last thing she wanted to do was risk raising the team's ire by picking Oliver over them.

Helplessly, she sought to somehow communicate this with Oliver. _I'm sorry_ , her eyes seemed to say, _but I just can't_.

Oliver merely nodded his understanding, though Thea wondered just how much her brother had truly grasped.

Mentally sighing to himself for the umpteenth time, Oliver racked his brain for more ideas - at least, until a small noise on the couch disturbed his thoughts.

All murmured conversation stopped and time seemingly froze in the lair. Sara was waking up.

Laurel, of course, was the first to revive from her stupor. Within seconds, she had crossed the room where she had been silently conversing with the team and crouched by her sister's side, gently stroking her hair.

"Sara?" she whispered unsteadily under her breath, hardly trusting to hope that her little sister was back again in one piece. "It's me Sara, it's Laurel. Can you come back to me?"

Sara's eyebrows furrowed at the voice and a slight sweat broke out across her brow. Restless, her body started to tremble and fidget, fighting Laurel's attempts at comfort.

"Shhh," Laurel crooned. "It's ok, you're safe now. You're free… I'm here now."

If the words had any effect on Sara, Oliver will never know. She continued to fight them, unconsciously sensing the bodies gathered around her and panicking due to their presence.

Meanwhile, the rest of Team Arrow had sidled up to the sisters - offering silent comfort but unwilling to intrude on the private moment. Constantine merely watched with unabashed interest from afar, understanding that his presence wouldn't be welcomed at the time.

 _Or anytime for that matter_ , the demonologists couldn't stop the dark thought from creeping across his mind. Sure, he got why they were wary - in fact, it was good that they distrusted magic and admittedly strange magicians.

 _All the same_ , Constantine reflected, _there's a fine line between suspicion and paranoia. A little suspicion is healthy, it helps keep you alive, but paranoia will get you killed. Oliver understands that but the others clearly don't._

However, his thoughts were interrupted by the commotion across the room.

For with a sharp gasp, Sara suddenly lunged forward. Back ramrod straight and panting heavily, she struggled furiously against the hands trying to steady her.

"Let me go, let me go!"

"Sara please, it's ok!" Laurel cried out.

"No no no no no," the younger sister murmured, eyes darting around the room with blind terror.

"Sara, wake up, please!" Laurel choked out, fighting back tears as her sister continued to writhe on the couch.

"No! Get away from leave! Leave me alone!"

"Sara!"

Sara's piercing shriek suddenly filled the room, startling the occupants of the room. She clearly wasn't with the rest of the team, her mind locked in some form of madness only she could see.

Then a hand reached out and touched her shoulder. Sara immediately froze, jerking as though stung. Yet, the screams stopped and as Sara turned to the owner of the offending hand, her eyes alight with wonder.

"It's you," she whispered, eyebrows furrowed in intense consternation.

"I saw you. In my dreams, you came for me and pulled me from the darkness." Sara paused, struggling to form the words as wild emotions threatened to drown her.

"You saved me," she finally managed, leaning into the touch and collapsing with sobs.

Laurel and the rest of the team had no choice but to step back as Constantine rounded the other side of the couch, now firmly grasping both of Sara's shoulders.

"Listen to me," he finally addressed her. "You're safe now but your soul isn't firmly reattached yet. It takes time and if you continue to dwell on those memories, your soul will return to that evil place. Give yourself time to heal or it will all be for naught."

Sara's form started to tremble at the pronouncement, burying her face in her hands as the sobs continued to wreck her body.

"Hey now, none of that," Constantine murmured gently, something Oliver hadn't known the man was even capable of doing.

"The only power they hold over you is the power you decide to give them. Don't wander back there, even in thought or memory. Live here in the present with your friends and family. They can't touch you, here in the light."

"But what if I can't help it," Sara asked, finally looking up with a manic fervor in her eyes. "What if I dream and they come back, or if I slip up and they lock me away again. What if - "

" - You're stronger than you think." Constantine cut off forcefully. "And even if that happens, it doesn't matter. Because I'll be here the whole time and I'll come back for you. Again and again if I must."

"You promise?" Sara whispered, reminding Laurel of the little girl Sara used to be.

Constantine gently cupped Sara's face, "I promise you, you will be safe."

Sara's breath caught at the declaration and she collapsed into Constantine's arms, the exhaustion of the past few hours finally catching up with her. She soon fell into a deep healing sleep, entirely different from the unconsciousness that gripped her earlier.

Suddenly aware of the bodies and eyes all around him, Constantine rose to leave. Yet, as he started to walk away, his sleeve caught on something and pulled him back. Looking down, he saw Sara's hand clutching his jacket, refusing to allow him to leave even in her sleep.

With a soft sigh, he resigned himself to his fate and settled back on the hard floors, already running through spells that would prevent the inescapable pins and needles about to plague his legs.

As Team Arrow looked on, having watched all the proceedings, they began to see the man before them in a new light.

Gone was the dubious and sarcastic persona Constantine carried around him like his favorite trench coat. Instead, they caught a slight glimpse of the tender and passionate side that the demonologist had hidden away.

This, Oliver noted, was the man that the team might actually be able to put their trust in and follow. The one that Oliver saw on Lian Yu, who might actually lead them in the front against Damien Dark.

At least, until he pulled another cigarette from his pocket, lighting it without a care.

Beside him, Oliver felt more than saw Felicity tense, her hands clenched in fists. Yet, the feisty blonde said nothing, choosing to walk away from the silent figures on the couch.

And as the rest of the team dispersed, Oliver finally felt a shred of hope.

* * *

Well, here it is at long last. I was really surprised by the positive responses to this story, especially since I wrote it on a whim. So this one goes out to the reviewers - without you, this never would have been published.

As always, let me know what you think. Reviews keep this writer going.

Cheers everyone and Happy New Year!


	4. Forged in Flames

Huge thanks for all the support behind this story. I'm frankly amazed by all of you and I cannot say it enough - thank you so much.

DragonsintheMoonlight: Huge thanks to your review, it's actually why this new chapter is getting posted so soon. As for your questions, I'll address them here. You're definitely going to see Constantine do some magic soon. Also, I hope to get into his past but I'm going to see how the story flows first. Finally, I haven't decided about the POV yet. I'm don't want to lock myself into one person so I'm trying to keep it neutral (unfortunately Oliver just keeps jumping in somehow lol).

Castiel-Deserves-Better: Thanks for addressing my transcript anxiety. Tbh, I have absolutely zero experience in fictional writing, so thanks for settling that. I'm just really glad you like this story!

Everyone else: I didn't want to fill the page with these responses so if you left a review, just know how thankful I am. It really means the world to me. Now, without further ado, here we go.

Note there's also a bit of language in this - I refuse to accept that Constantine doesn't curse.

* * *

Chapter Four: Forged in Flames

…

…

The next morning, Constantine awoke with a stiff neck. At least, he assumed it was morning. The lack of windows gave the lair a sense of timelessness, as though nothing on the outside had any influence on what was happening inside. Of course, he was no stranger to such rooms. Exploring ancient temples and uncovering lost artifacts was part of his job after all. Still, it was slightly unsettling to get this feeling in such a modern setting.

Though not nearly as unsettling as the eyes he suddenly sensed staring at him.

With a sharp gasp, he propelled himself away from the couch - unable to rise properly due to his numb legs - and the curious face mere inches away from his own.

"Fucking hell," he gasped, placing a hand over his racing heart. "Have you ever heard of personal space? Christ Almighty."

"I'm sorry," Sara sputtered, equally startled by the man's violent reaction. "I was just making sure you were…" she trailed off, quietly fidgeting with her hands.

"That I was what?"

"Well, real, I suppose," she muttered bashfully.

"Oh trust me luv, I'm real - even if you just did your best to give me a damn heart attack," he complained, straightening his coat and glaring at the wrinkles in it.

"Sorry," Sara tried again. Constantine merely rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I'm used to it," he replied darkly. He carefully stood, cautious of the lack of feeling in his legs, and groaned.

"God, I know I have low standards but that floor is brutal," Constantine mumbled to himself. He rolled his neck, grimacing when the motion resulted in a loud pop. "Honestly, is it asking too much for a comfortable place to kip?"

Sara merely watched with wide eyes, apparently still star-stricken by the man before her.

"Oh knock it off, will you?" Constantine shot over his shoulder in annoyance. Sara quickly averted her gaze, going back to playing with her hands.

Constantine simply sighed to himself and replayed yesterday's events in his mind as he wandered around the lair.

 _That spell must've taken more out of me than I thought,_ he thought to himself. For he had no recollection of falling asleep or even where the rest of the team had gone. In fact, everything after Sara waking up was a bit of a blur, much to his discomfort.

He continued his little stroll, picking up various objects and examining them. He chuckled to himself when he picked up one of Oliver's arrows. _Who knew Oliver Queen spent his time as a spandex clad Robin Hood_ , he laughed to himself. Still, his mirth was short-lived when he remembered who exactly they were going to be facing. These weapons were nothing compared to Dark's power and he had the unsettling feeling that this would end up as a simple showdown between the two magicians.

To make matters worse, Constantine wasn't entirely sure he would win that fight.

Before he could follow that train of thought to its inevitable conclusion - Constantine on an early trip to hell - he was pulled out of his rumination by commotion outside the main door. Automatically on alert, the demonologist steeled himself - gathering his magic to protect both himself and Sara.

"What if he doesn't like burgers?" A distinctly feminine voice echoed up the stairwell.

"What do you mean? Everyone loves hamburgers," a deeper voice replied.

"Well, he's British isn't he?"

"Thea, I'm pretty sure they eat hamburgers in the UK. Besides, I think he's lived here for a while."

"But you don't know for sure, do you?" the voice, Thea apparently, shot back.

The second voice just sighed. "It will be fine Thea."

"Whatever. Just don't blame me if he doesn't like this grease bomb."

Constantine quickly relaxed his tensed position and carefully released the magical energy he had built up. After all, accidentally cursing the group would hardly help the tension between them, he snorted to himself.

Their footfalls and bickering grew louder, indicating they were nearing the top of the stairwell. Looking around quickly, Constantine's eyes caught sight of the big and, most importantly, comfortable office chair in front of a large computer screen. Moving swiftly, he slouched into a nonchalant position. After a moment of consideration, he also kicked his feet on the desk, looking for all the world as if he owned it.

Once again feeling Sara's eyes upon him, Constantine ignored the woman. It wasn't his fault that she couldn't appreciate the importance of a person's image.

Then in a sudden rush, the whole team was there. Oliver and John entered first, both carrying huge bags of take-out labelled Big Belly. Constantine's stomach rolled uneasily, already guessing at the contents of the bags. Following them, Laurel and Thea both entered together. Thea was still murmuring something to Oliver - they were too far away for Constantine to catch their conversation - while Laurel struggled to contain her giggles. Whatever they were discussing, it must've been pretty amusing because Constantine had yet to see the high-strung brunette smile, much less giggle. Finally, pulling up the rear, Felicity entered last, the smile on her face quickly dissipating when she spotted Constantine sprawled across her chair.

"We bring gifts of food," Oliver proclaimed, a large grin threatening to split his face.

"Oh thank God, I'm starved," Sara responded, rising slowly from the couch with a hesitant smile on her face.

"Sara, you're awake!" Laurel shrieked, racing to embrace her sister as the rest of the room's occupants winced at the sharp pitch.

Sara met her halfway, arms opened wide as Laurel caught her in a bone-crushing hug. Laughing to herself, Laurel pulled back slightly to look at Sara in amazement.

"I just can't believe you're back," she whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Sara's brow.

"I know," the younger replied. "And I promise, this time I'm not going anywhere."

The sisters continued to embrace until a low grumble interrupted the moment. Pulling away from her sister, Sara blushed slightly.

"Well, except maybe to the dinner table," she added demurely. Another low growl emitted from her stomach and Laurel laughed.

"Well, it's a good thing we brought back enough food to feed an army!" Laurel beamed, grabbing Sara's hand and dragging her to where the others were unpacking the food.

As the others worked on clearly off an eating area, Thea timidly approached Constantine, who merely watched her coming with raised eyebrows.

"We have enough for everybody if you want to join us," she offered simply, looking at him prettily through her eyelashes.

Recognizing the truce for what it was, Constantine smiled slightly to her. "Yeah, I wouldn't mind some grub."

Thea's mouth twitched upwards and she gestured slightly with her head, indicating that he should come with her.

Rolling his eyes slightly because honestly, what was this, a fucking drama show? Constantine made a show of sauntering over to the others and grabbing a foil wrapped burger for himself. Oliver and the others barely acknowledged his arrival, digging into the food themselves. Although naturally, Felicity did make a point of sending a fierce glare his way, clearly not pleased with his attitude. In response, Constantine found himself fighting an overwhelming urge to stick his tongue out at the uptight blonde.

Gingerly unwrapping his food, he frowned slightly at the sight before him. While he had certainly had his fair share of crummy fast food, Thea wasn't joking when she said it was a grease bomb - Constantine could feel his arteries clogging just looking at it.

Still, unwilling to give Felicity the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort, he quickly dug in too. While visually unappealing, he had to admit the burger tasted pretty damn good. _Although, I'd eat just about anything at this point_ , he reflected. Meanwhile, a casual conversation had taken residence around him as the various team members chatted with one another.

Yet, Constantine noticed that Felicity still hadn't taken her sharp eyes off him and was isolating herself from the conversation. Seeing how ignoring people was his speciality, he merely reached for a second burger and tried to get used to the people around him. After all, they needed to work as a team if they ever wanted a chance of defeating Dark and he knew he could work a little harder at it. At least, that was the plan until a biting voice directed a question towards him.

"So, John - if it's ok to call you that," Felicity started, drawing the eyes of the whole table.

Constantine didn't respond, blinking at her as he waited for her to continue.

Nonplussed by his lack of reaction, Felicity continued. "I was wondering if you would tell us a little bit about yourself. After all, team members need to know one another, don't they?"

As the stare down between the two continued, all table conversation stopped and an awkward silence fell over the room. In the resulting quiet, the sisters quietly fiddled with their food and Thea hung her head slightly. Diggle paused as well, carefully wiping his mouth on a napkin and leaning back to observe what was about to happen. Only Oliver glowered at Felicity, making his feelings regarding the current situation clear in his dark gaze.

However, unshaken by Oliver's steely look or Constantine's continued silence, Felicity continued her questioning. "I looked you up on the internet last night and just so you know, we have very good software here. And I must say, it was some very interesting reading. Sure, there wasn't much as I'm sure you know how to clean your record but as I said, I'm really good."

Constantine just shrugged, disinterest practically pouring out of his relaxed posture. "Yeah? Care to share with the class luv? I'm sure everyone would love to know."

"Why don't you tell us about Newcastle?"

Unable to help himself, Constantine felt is body stiffen. "What about it," he sniffed.

Felicity glared at his off-handed attitude, annoyed he wouldn't take her more seriously. "A little girl died there and I know you had something to do with it." she shot back, not holding back any punches for the obnoxious Brit.

Feeling Oliver's heavy gaze upon her, Felicity mentally ground her teeth at his disapproval. It wasn't so much that she didn't trust Constantine and she really didn't mean to be such a bitch, any other time she actually might have enjoyed his company. Yet, she simply couldn't shake off the feeling that he was hiding something from them all - something big. _And if no one else is going to step up and figure out what he's hiding, I guess it has to be me_ , she decided. _Whether Oliver likes it or not._

The tension in the room was so strong you could practically feel it rippling between the two figures.

"Newcastle has nothing to do with you," Constantine finally replied.

"How can it have nothing to do with us? You come here and ask us to trust you, when you won't even talk to us about who you are," Felicity cried out.

"What do you want to hear then?"

"I want to know what happened!"

"Yeah well it's none of your bloody business! Newcastle was the biggest mistake of my life but that's my business, not yours!" Constantine shot to his feet and around him, the room started to darken. Furious with rage, he clenched his fists, unaware of the wary looks being sent his way or the lights flickering ominously above him.

"John, please," Oliver quickly intervened, shooting anxious looks between the demonologist and Felicity. "It's fine. You don't have to tell us anything you don't want to. We all have our secrets." After that last statement, he look sternly at each individual team member, until they understood exactly what he wasn't saying. _We all have our mistakes and we all have our own dark pasts_ , his underlying message reminded. _No one is perfect and we need him._

Slowly sitting back down, Constantine rubbed a head across his face, suddenly feeling exhaustion creeping around him again. Knowing this was another pivotal moment with the group and firmly aware that they needed to be united before they faced Dark, Constantine sighed.

"No, she's right."

The team looked at him in surprise.

Gesturing for Oliver to sit back down, Constantine took a breath. "Her name was Astra. Her father was a friend of mine and she had gotten herself into trouble - the kind of trouble I specialize in."

He left the statement hanging, letting the team's imagination fill in the gaps.

"I was young and inexperienced, but I thought I could do this. I thought I could save her." He trailed off quietly, the pain of the memories washing over him. "All it took was one bad decision - my bad decision - and it was all over. I couldn't save her. She was gone." He whispered the last words, reliving those last moments, the terrified screams as Astra was dragged into hell echoing in his mind. An eternity of torment and pain, one no innocent child deserved.

"It should've been me," he quietly pronounced. "It was my fault but she paid the price. I later had myself admitted to Ravenscar, to attone for my actions," he concluded quietly. With a soft sigh, Constantine rose to his feet and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. With hardly a glance at the team, he turned around and expertly lit the cigarette, briskly heading towards to door leading outside. After the door shut with an audible click, the team turned to look at Felicity.

Always the leader, Oliver was first to break the silence. "Felicity, what in the world were you thinking?"

"Yeah, I know. That was decidedly not good," the blonde responded absentmindedly, still staring at the door.

"Don't you understand that we need his help? Of course he has a past, we all do. Why would you…"

Whatever Oliver was saying, Felicity would never know. The words started to blend together as Oliver's voice became nothing more than a drone in the background. with a sudden moment of clarity, Felicity shot to her feet, knowing what she needed to do and startling Oliver into silence.

With a quick look over her shoulder and a muttered, "be back soon," Felicity briskly crossed the room and slipped out the same door Constantine had disappeared behind just moments before.

Following the smell of cigarette smoke, Felicity opened the door to the back alleyway. Catching sight of a shadowed figure leaning against the brick wall, Felicity sighed to herself.

"Hey," she called out, uncertain what else to say.

The trenchcoated man merely scoffed to himself, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Yeah, anything else you want to know?" he asked sarcastically, shooting her a dark look.

"Look, I'm… well, I'm sorry," she said, shivering as the biting wind picked up around her.

Constantine didn't seemed to notice the cold at all as he turned away from her, slowly pacing in a small circle.

"What I said in there, I didn't mean it. Or well, I did but I shouldn't have said it like that. I shouldn't have accused you of things I don't understand myself and I was wrong," she rambled, trying to find the right words.

"Oliver's right, we need your help. And how can I expect you to trust me enough to share your secrets when I can't even have a simple meal with you. I mean, you're infuriating and rude and sarcastic, but that doesn't make you a bad person or untrustworthy."

Constantine's lips twitched at that and Felicity trudged on, feeling sick as she tried to fix the damage she had caused.

"It's just, all of this scares me. And after seeing what Dark can do with magic and just how evil he is, I assumed everyone with magic had to be bad. Or that magic made them evil and they shouldn't be trusted. And that was wrong, I understand that now. There's no excuse for my actions but I hope you understand where I'm coming from," she trailed off, finally out of things to say.

As the silence between them grew, Felicity began to fidget uncomfortably. Not only was it freezing cold outside but she also couldn't get a read on what Constantine was thinking. The shadows hid the man's face completely, leaving her without a clue of what to do next.

Finally, his voice cut through the darkness. "I understand you're uneasy towards magic," he began, "but know that magic has always been part of your life, whether you knew it or not."

Felicity tilted her head in confusion. "Look, I can accept that magic is a real thing, I have seen the proof now," she blurted out. "But it's never been part of my life. I would know if people were using magic around me."

Constantine merely shook his head. "You don't see it because you don't know what magic is."

Felicity bit back a retort at the arrogant statement, reminding herself that she had inadvertently asked for this and that he was right - after all, she didn't know anything about magic.

"Thing is, magic isn't just a tool that a few people can wield," the magician explained. "It's more like an energy force and it acts similar to a river. It flows all around us, carving through time and space itself. And some people," Constantine paused, murmuring a few words softly under his breath, "can shape this energy to perform certain tasks."

Opening his hand, Felicity was amazed to see a small flame flickering on Constantine's palm, softening the sharp features of his face. Unaware of her feet moving beneath her, Felicity crept closer to the flame, watching in wonder as it danced across his hand.

"It's no more inherently good or evil than any other tool."

To Felicity's delight, the flame twisted itself into the familiar form of Oliver's trademark weapon.

"And just as Oliver could use his bow to save or hurt people, magic also depends on the user," he continued gently, his words weaving a story before her very eyes.

As she watched, a small spark fell off the bow, glowing steadily brighter until Felicity was forced to avert her gaze. Yet, just a moment later, the dazzling brilliance faded away and she could open her eyes again. Still resting on Constantine's hand, the flame had split and as Felicity peered into the blaze, she realized she could make out the distinctive form of a man now holding the bow.

Clasping her hands in awe, she watched as the fiery figure emerged from the flames and reached into his quiver, pulling out a singular arrow. Nocking the string carefully, the image drew his arm back and let the arrow fly. After it's release, the flaming man dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, the flames folding into one another until nothing remained.

Now the sole source of light in the alley, the flaming arrow continued its arc. When it struck the far away wall, thousands of sparks shot out and the ground suddenly exploded into flames. All around her, the flames engulfed Felicity, running up the alley walls until it was transformed into a fiery tunnel. Yet, not a single flame burned her as they licked the brick walls, dancing madly in the gusting wind. Nor did the heat became unbearable, as her logical mind told her it should.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only a few seconds, a particularly strong gale swirled down the alley, throwing thousands of sparks into the wind and blowing the flames out like so many candles.

Yet, in the infernos wake stood a garden of majesty she couldn't even imagine in her dreams.

Fiery vines and tendrils snaked their way up the brick walls of the alley, forming impossibly intricate and delicate designs. Along the vines, fierce flowers blossomed, glowing white-hot in their passion.

In that moment, Felicity turned to Constantine, trying desperately to understand what was going on around her. He only spread his arms out wide, showcasing everything around him.

"Magic doesn't have to destroy. It doesn't have to be twisted or evil; it can beauty and light," he concluded simply.

As she admired the flaring grandeur all around her, Felicity realized she had no choice but to accept what Constantine explained. For how could something evil create something so majestic and awe-inspiring? Smiling gently at him, she nodded her head in understanding.

Then, with nothing more than a snap of his fingers, Constantine expertly extinguished the flames.

Without the brilliant fires, the alleyway suddenly seemed impossibly dark and, as another breeze tickled her bare arms, Felicity was reminded of the biting cold.

Noticing her discomfort, Constantine gestured towards the door, hinting that they should go back inside. And after taking one last look at the half-finished cigarette in his hands, he let it drop to the pavement and snuffed it out with his shoe. After all, he could afford to play nice this one time.

Felicity gave a soft snort at the action and held the door open. Together they walked back into the lair - a new friendship and understanding kindled between them.

* * *

Yay, finally some magic - I hope it transcribed to the paper well because I have no idea what I'm doing. Also, I know Felicity seems a bit OC but I always imagined her as protective over the group and stubborn to a fault. So after their experience with Dark, I thought she might be particularly hard to persuade.

Like always, drop a review and let me know what you think. As you can see, I meant it when I said reviews keep me writing.

Cheers!


	5. Of Blood Magic and Sacrifice

I swear I haven't forgotten about you guys and I have no excuse other than college is a bitch. But here it is at long last. Anyways, I hope you like it and like always, huge thanks to the reviewers!

Quick shoutouts:

DragonsintheMoonlight: Your reviews actually give me life. I'll never understand just what people see in this story, but I'm so glad you guys seem to be enjoying it. Thank you so very much for your reviews and sorry for this chapter's tardiness.

mjf2468: I'm glad Felicity's OOCness still managed to work in the context. Admittedly, I really had to force the altercation to get to the magic scene that I really wanted to write but I'm so glad it worked!

I try to keep these notes short and to the point. So if you reviewed but didn't get a note, please know that your comments were also greatly appreciated. Seriously, reviews mean the world to me.

All that being said, here's chapter five. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Five: Of Blood Magic and Sacrifice

…

...

"What do you think is going on out there?" Thea asked quietly.

Ever since Constantine had stormed off with Felicity trailing mere moments behind, the team had worked on lacklusterly finishing the remaining food and clearing off the resulting mess. Now they waited for the two to return.

"I don't know, I just hope Constantine isn't too hard on her. He didn't seem very... happy" John answered.

Oliver scoffed. "I would be more worried about what Felicity may be doing to him."

John just snorted in reply. Knowing the feisty blonde, it was a very reasonable concern.

"Still," Thea continued thoughtfully. "They've been gone an awfully long time, maybe someone should go check on them?"

"I'm more concerned about what Felicity was insinuating," Diggle pondered aloud. "Don't get me wrong, after what he did for Sara and what he promises to do, I trust him. I know we can't defeat Dark without his help. But Oliver, are you being on the level with us?"

Seeing nothing but complete sincerity in John's face, Oliver settled with the team. "There's nothing more to say than has already been said," he replied firmly. "Like I said earlier, I met him on Lian Yu. He was there to recover some kind of mystical artifact and I got dragged along. I saw him do a little magic, he gave me his business card and then he was gone. Really, you know just as much as I do."

Diggle nodded his acceptance of the explanation - not completely pleased with the lack of information but at least willing to accept it. Oliver mentally sighed in relief.

"Wait," Thea laughed, amusement lighting her eyes. "He has _business cards_? Seriously? What do they say?"

Oliver shrugged. "John Constantine. Exorcist, Demonologist, and Master of the Dark Arts. Then it had his number."

"Actually, it's more like petty dabbler if I were to be completely honest," a voice answered from across the room.

Everyone at the table turned in surprise at the very man in question leaning coolly against the wall. Oliver fleetingly wondered how he got in so silently.

"I've been meaning to get new ones made," he added off-hand, flickering his ever-present lighter open and closed.

Startled into silence, the team simply gaped at him and a slight blush touched Thea's cheek. Just then, the door to the Foundry opened and Felicity emerged.

Clearly a woman on a mission, Felicity marched past Constantine but made sure to grab his arm as she passed, effectively dragging the dramatic exorcist along with her.

"Come on," she murmured to him.

With a slight roll of his eyes, Constantine fell into step behind her and strolled back to the table, hands in his pockets. There he assumed his usual position slouched into the chair and his feet propped on the table.

Taking her seat beside him, Felicity good-naturedly shoved his feet off the table and sent him a half-hearted glare. Constantine just rolled his eyes again.

As they settled into their respective spots, Oliver noticed something different between the two. If he didn't know any better, he would almost say there was a bond between them - a new sense of camaraderie. But that would be ridiculous. Felicity was far too stubborn to be convinced by a few minutes chat and Constantine was far too abrasive to allow that kind of heartful conversation anyways.

Yet, as he looked around the table at his closest friends, he realized it wasn't just those two whose dynamic had changed. Despite the mistrust and anger, it seemed as though clearing the air had actually done it. As impossible as it seemed, something finally seemed to click into place. Everyone seated at the table was glad to be there, comfortable with the person sitting next to them and, most importantly, _trusting_ in the person next to them. The awkward silences and uneasy glances were gone, replaced instead with simple companionship and silent solidarity. At long last, Oliver caught a glimpse of the very thing he had hoping to see since that split second decision to bring Constantine in - for the first time, he saw a team united.

Now it was simply up to him to lead it, defeat a seemingly all-powerful magician and save the world from destruction. Just another day in the life of the Green Arrow. No pressure.

Still, never one to let an opportune moment like this slip from his fingers, Oliver clasped his hands together. "Alright," he started, immediately drawing the attention of the entire team. "We are running out of time to defeat Dark and we need to start planning our next move. Clearly, I am more than willing to admit that I'm completely out of my depth when it comes to magic." Oliver paused, quickly making eye contact with the occupants of the room and gestured to the magician. "So John, would you mind filling us in on what you know about Dark?"

Running a head through his tousled hair, Constantine shot Oliver his trademark grin. "Far too much and none of it good," he replied sardonically.

Sensing Oliver's unamused glare, Constantine heaved a great sigh and sat up carefully. Elbows placed carefully on the table, his eyes strikingly dark and intense, he started his tale.

"Amongst those of the occult, Damien Dark is more a myth than a real man. And as with every legend, it's nearly impossible to separate the fact from the fiction. From what I've heard, he's a master of the dark arts and possesses more power than any mortal should be able to bear. Rumors of long-life have followed him; some say he was kicking around with Hitler but others say he's hundreds of years older than that. As for the exact number, no one knows. Still, others claim that he was once a member of the League of Assassins and former Heir to the Demon."

He trailed off, gaze turned inwards as he pondered these ramifications.

"According to an old mate of mine, that's where Dark mastered his magic and became the most powerful dueling magician in the League. As for his magic itself, I hear that his specialty involves blood magic, an evil form of magic that uses human sacrifice as its power source and corrupts the soul of the user. The more he kills, the stronger he gets. But as I said," he finally concluded. "It's hard to separate the lore from the truth."

Another lengthy pause followed Constantine's statement as the table's occupants struggled to come to terms and accept the explanation.

Always quick to cut to the root of the problem and admittedly the most familiar with magic, magician notwithstanding, Oliver was quick to reply. "And how do we battle blood magic."

"Well, it's like I said. Blood magic is really just a sick and twisted form of dark magic, very similar to necromancy in fact."

"So what, light magic, then?..." Thea replied slowly, testing the words as they left her mouth and fixing her sharp gaze on Constantine. "Assuming that that's even a thing?"

The magician nodded. "Light magic would work best, however, you're barking up the wrong tree with me luv. As I said earlier, I dabble in the dark arts, not the light."

"And you can't just learn a few lights spells or something?" Thea responded helplessly.

"A person's magic reflects the user," Constantine replied darkly, avoiding eye contact with the team. "Light magic... let's just say, it isn't in my repertoire."

"What about weaknesses, are there any - I don't know - faults with dark magic? Anything we can exploit?" Sara piped in.

A moments pause and Constantine shook his head. "No," he finally replied. "None that don't also apply to my magic as well and, needless to say, that's kind of counterproductive."

Sara nodded and the silence continued as the various team members brainstormed furiously, interrupted only by Constantine lightly tapping his lighter against the table.

"Although," the demonologist drawled out softly, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he gazed at his lighter, "I suppose there's always fire."

Recognizing the man was thinking out loud to himself rather than addressing the group, the team remained silent.

"Granted, fire isn't in direct opposition to dark magic. After all, they often exist in tandem; hellfire, smoke, and darkness - they all belong as one. But if we play our cards carefully and carry the power of intent firmly behind us…" he nodded to himself thoughtfully, "that just might give an advantage."

Slightly bemused and certainly no more enlightened than before, the team looked questioningly at one another. Noting the blanks looks, Constantine sighed to himself, struggling to remain patient with them at this point.

 _It's not their fault they've never dealt with magic_ , he reminded his temper. Nevertheless, it was wholly frustrating to be forced to explain the fundamental basics that he had understood as a child. _Patience, just lead them through it._

"From what I've been able to gather, Dark is a traditionalist. He's good at what he does but it makes him set in his ways and he follows the rules of ancient magic. According to those old texts, the various magics interacted in plain and predictable patterns; light vs dark, fire vs water, necromancy vs angelic, the list goes on. To use water against light was unheard of because they didn't contain counteractive properties. But as time moved on, magic continued to grow. Civilizations discovered new applications for magic and built off one another, creating a vast and complex web of magic. Those who know how to read this web, to follow its strands and unravel it, can create new uses for the magics and get around the old rules."

Pausing briefly, Constantine barely managed to stifle a groan when he realized they still weren't quite 'getting it'.

"So," he continued impatiently, "I've made it my trade to learn any form of magic I can get my hands on. I survive because of my knowledge of the occult and my ability to manipulate that web. That's our advantage over Dark. For just as some mages will devote themselves entirely to the study of voodoo, for example, and neglect all other magic, I suspect Dark has similarly devoted himself to blood magic. Although harvesting the magic from other beings makes him incredibly strong, it also blinds him. If I'm right, he won't be prepared to handle magic with a variety of influences and origins."

Tired of his monolog and completely out of explanations at this point, Constantine glanced around the table once again, fingers mentally crossed that they finally got the concept this time around.

Seeing no questions forthcoming, the demonologist allowed his body to relax back into the chair and massaged his temples. This is exactly why he always withheld explanations from Zed and Chas. If he had to take the time to explain every facet of magic to them like he did with this group, it would be a wonder that they ever got anything done at all.

Unfortunately for his inner ramblings, Oliver interrupted Constantine's thoughts with yet another question.

"John, you keep mentioning 'your magic', what exactly does that entail? Besides dark magic, of course, just, what can you do?" Oliver trailed off awkwardly, wincing slightly at his poorly formed question.

Not answering immediately, Constantine looked over Oliver's shoulder at the concrete wall behind the archer and seriously contemplated bashing his own head against the wall.

However, mental image aside, for once the mage didn't sarcastically turn the words around on Oliver and instead appeared to consider the question very seriously.

"I'm not much of a duelist," he slowly replied, silently gauging the others' reactions. "While I'm not stranger to a fight and can hold my own pretty damn well when the need arises, it's not what I'm trained in and it's not what I practice. That's Dark's area of expertise," he practically spat out the name. "As I already explained, I've always relied on my wits; brain over brawn - that sort of thing. As for my own magic..."he paused, contemplating to himself. J _ust how much do they really need to know. "_ I mastered necromancy and exorcisms as a teen. However, I don't expect that to be much help against Dark in a head to head fight, which, as I've said, I'd rather avoid," he gave them a twisted smirk.

"Because that's using dark magic against dark magic and that doesn't really work," Laurel interrupted, doing her best to follow along.

Constantine nodded in agreement. At least somebody was listening. "Well, it wouldn't make sense to put out a fire by pouring more gasoline on it, now would it?" he answered with a tight smile.

Laurel shook her head slowly.

"Good," he replied, "now you're getting it." Sort of.

"But you're going to use fire magic to fight dark magic," Diggle cut in skeptically.

Constantine winced slightly at the proclamation. "Well, for starters, it's called pyrokinesis, mate. It's a damn handy form of magic and has saved my sorry ass more than a few times in the past."

Diggle didn't seem convinced.

"It's true," Felicity blurted unexpectedly, "he's actually really good at it."

The entire team turned to stare at her, divesting Constantine of their attention as they looked at her with a mixture of confusion and shock written on their faces.

She merely squeaked uncomfortably and looked away from the questioning gazes.

"It's like I said, if one knows how to use runes and circles to their advantage, they can manipulate different magical properties. For example, I can place more emphasis on fire's property of light rather than the heat or shadows that it casts."

Knowing seeing was the only way to truly convince them, Constantine called upon his magic for the second time that day. Opening his hand slowly, he allowed a small flame to flicker to life his palm. However, unlike the fire Felicity saw earlier that day which flowed with the shadows and twisted itself into intricate shapes, this flame remained still. Intrigued, Felicity leaned forward and studied the stationary flame, unaware that her team was unconsciously mirroring her movements. Knowing he held their attention completely, Constantine poured a little more magic into the spell and the flame gradually started to compress. Yet, as the light continued to shrink, it's brightness simply amplified. Steadily collapsing inwards, the ball grew smaller and smaller until it resembled a radiant white ball, nearing the size of a small marble. Then, with one final burst of magic, the ball erupted. Blinding white light shot out of the luminous sphere, causing the team to jump back and cover their eyes against the onslaught. Smiling softly at the shining star- it had been a long time since he had actually made use of that spell - Constantine quickly closed his fist, disbanding the magic and snuffing out the light.

Slowly, the team uncovered their eyes, rubbing the dark spots from their vision and readjusting to the lair's dim lighting. Then, all eyes locked onto Constantine - although logic reminded them that the mage was a friend, instinct told them to fear this impossible and unknown power.

Recognizing their discomfort, Oliver expertly brought everyone back on track. "So fire and quick thinking. That's it?" Oliver asked, both to diffuse the situation but to also demonstrate his slight dismay at the lack of true planning.

The magician simply shrugged. "Choreograph too much and things tend to fall apart, especially when magic's involved," he warned. "Not to mention, it's worked well enough for me in the past."

Oliver merely nodded, accepting the inevitable answer.

Meanwhile, shaking himself from his shocked stupor, Diggle addressed the magician. "And what about us? Where do we fit in this grand plan of yours?"

"Nowhere."

"What?" Diggle replied furiously. "This is the man that killed my brother. He's threatening the world, my home, and you think I'm just going to sit back and do nothing?"

"Yes, because you don't have a choice," Constantine shot back evenly.

Diggle clenched his jaw and looked away, clearly struggling to maintain his composure.

Slightly softer, Constantine continued. "Look, I'm going to have enough trouble shielding myself from Dark's magic. With all of you involved, I'll be stretched too thin and I'll be distracted. I won't be able to protect you under those circumstances."

"Who's asking you to protect us? This is our home, not yours. Why would we not protect it?" Laurel replied hotly.

"You have no defense against him," Constantine responded in frustration. "One flick of the hand, one thought and you're dead. You won't even get near him! What purpose could you possibly fulfill other than dying and strengthening him."

"Then place some wards on us or something, give us something to protect ourselves with! Teach us protection spells or something."

"It doesn't work like that! All magic comes with a cost, even simple sigils and circles. Each attack against your shields would drain my magic just as quickly as it would if I was actively protecting you myself. And even if you possess to qualities to perform magic yourself, there's not nearly enough time to train you well enough to hold up against the likes of Damien Dark."

Constantine stopped and drew a big breath, trying his best to calm himself against the pig-headed stubbornness that surrounded him.

"I understand that you want to help. Dark has hurt you in so many ways and his very presence is a threat against your home. But believe me, I know what it's like to have people you love taken from you and to be powerless against it - trust me, I know! Just as I know what it's like to want to protect your friends, your city or even the world itself. I've been fighting this battle longer than any of you so don't think I don't understand."

"But understand _me_ when I say that there is nothing you can do in this battle. You don't know magic, and you can't fight magic. So have faith in those of us that can. After everything I've sacrificed, everything I've given up for my entire life, don't think for one second that I'm going to let Dark make it all for naught. You called me here for a reason and you asked for my help, this is me giving it. You don't have a choice."

And in light of his impassioned and reasoned speech, Team Arrow found he was right - they truly didn't have a choice. They had to go beyond just trusting Constantine as a brother in arms, they had to trust him to carry the fight for them.

Although, after remembering the antics of the past day, Oliver realized just how terrifying of a prospect that truly was.

* * *

Well, that's it. I'm really looking forward to the showdown between Constantine and Dark, so hopefully that will motivate me to update sooner this time.

Like always, reviews are appreciated and they really help keep me writing. After all, believe it or not, I could be spending my Saturdays night doing something else!

Thanks for reading!


	6. The Price of Magic

**_AN:_** Well, look who's back. I'm gonna skip the apology this time, surely its getting old at this point. All I can say is life is busy, and I'm not actually a writer. I'm here when time allows it, but I am truly sorry that it takes so long sometimes.

 _ **Quick note**_ : I'll be rewriting some of the earlier chapters. No big changes; just some wording and some grammar. Apparently, I just didn't know how to use commas before - funny how things change.

As always, huge thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited or followed this story. You guys are the absolute best, and I would have given up on this long ago without you.

* * *

Chapter Six: The Price of Magic

...

...

The team discussed strategy deep into the night and retired in the early predawn hours. The evening was largely defined by arguing and more arguing. Though Constantine insisted that magic couldn't be scripted and that concrete plans would only get in the way, Oliver and the team were uncomfortable with the exorcist's plan to just improvise. Oliver insisted that strategic planning would allow the team to offer technical support and exploit any holes in Darhk's defense that may appear during the battle. Constantine merely scoffed at that rebuttal and reminded the team that they didn't possess magic or any understanding of it. Naturally, this led to more arguing and every member at some point wondered if this partnership wasn't for naught. This, coupled with the poorly disguised flirting between Constantine and his sister, was enough to send Olivier over the edge.

Still, despite the struggles, it was ultimately decided that Oliver would go with Constantine and assist the demonologist in his fight when the time came. The exorcist had caved suspiciously fast to this demand and refused to explain what he wanted the Green Arrow to do; Olivier had to remind himself time and time again that this was Constantine's show, not his. Meanwhile, it was decided that the rest of the team would focus on clearing out Darhk's goons and providing the infiltration team with the easiest path to the magician.

With the plan roughly laid out, a hardfought compromise between Constantine and the team, the next day was as normal as normal could be for a bunch of vigilantes hiding out in their secret lair. Constantine's presence was just another obstacle to maneuver in their otherwise odds lives; so in many ways, he fit right in with the team.

The morning was spent in training; each team member sparring against one another and honing their skills for the upcoming battle. Constantine merely watched in amusement as an impromptu tournament formed: Canary vs. Canary, and Diggle vs. Thea, with Oliver filling the open slot. Despite battling their own teammates, the resulting fights were passionate and fierce; no one held back against their opponent and everyone gave their all to demonstrate their skills. Not for the first time, Constantine found himself thankful magic wasn't as physically strenuous as martial arts. Granted, magic carried its own price, and he could certainly throw a punch as well as the next bloke; nevertheless, he didn't envy the resounding thud of Diggle's strong punches or the whipping sting of Thea's high roundhouse kick.

In the end, the tournament ended with a fierce round between Thea and Oliver; both fighting with abandon and reminding the team of the natural sibling rivalry the two rarely had the opportunity to explore anymore. During the fight, the older team members actively sided with the younger Queen, calling out encouragement and secretly hoping to finally see Oliver bested by a member of the team, particularly his younger sister.

However, it wasn't meant to be; Oliver finally managed to pin Thea with a particularly nasty move he hadn't used since Lian Yu. Nevertheless, despite her defeat, Thea sprang up with a grin on her face.

"You know, I almost had you back there," she panted with a smile, accepting a towel from her brother.

"Believe me Speedy, I know," Olivier laughed. "Remind me not to piss you off any time soon."

As the rest of the team congratulated Thea on her near victory, Oliver caught Constantine's eye from where he was quietly conversing with Felicity.

"What do you say John," Oliver called out, eyes glinting with humor. "Wanna go a round?"

Constantine snorted. "Hardly," he responded. "I'm not too proud to admit when I'm out matched. It's a handy trait that's saved me on more than one occasion."

"Come on, I never said you couldn't use magic," Olivier answered. "If I'm supposed to go against Darhk, I'll need to know what to expect from a magic user."

Meanwhile, drawn by the conversation, the rest of team abandoned their water break and crept closer to the sparring area.

"Oh, you wanna go against magic then. Well, I suppose I can take a moment and educate you," Constantine responded, making a show of getting up from his chair. He turned to Felicity and dug around in his pocket. "Here luv, hold this, won't you?"

Felicity looked quizzically at the peacock feather he made her get the other day.

"You never know when you may get an itch, you know? Best to be prepared," he said with a wink.

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Felicity accepted the feather without a word.

Wiping his hands loudly, Constantine strode over to Oliver and confidently plucked the vigilante's bow along the way.

"Well, if you wanna have any sort of chance against me, its best to give it your all," the magician taunted, tossing the weapon to Oliver.

Thrown off-guard, Oliver caught the bow hesitantly. "John, are you sure -" he started.

"Oh, come off it, mate, I can more than handle your little toy there," Constantine answered impatiently, gesturing with his hands for the other man to hurry up.

Flushing slightly, Oliver accepted his quiver from Diggle and strapped it across his back.

Hesitantly, Oliver assumed a position across from the Brit and nocked an arrow. "You ready?" he called out.

"Oh, just get on with it," Constatnie muttered, assuming his own position: legs squared with his shoulders and hands raised slightly. Though the team couldn't feel it, he was gathering his magic around him and drawing in the magic around him to feed his stores. Goosebumps rose on his arms as his flesh nearly crawled with the pent up energy.

So in tune was he with his surroundings, that he felt more than saw Oliver raise his bow and release an arrow. The trajectory, he noted, placed the arrow directly in line with his leg. A painful blow to be sure but hardly life threatening; apparently the Green Arrow was going easy on him.

With the slightest flick of his index finger, Constantine nudged the arrow and forced it to amend its flight path slightly. Instead of becoming embedding deep in his thigh, the arrow instead buried itself into the wall slightly behind him, it's shaft vibrating with the impact.

Oliver blinked in shock. Knowing his aim was true, there was no logical explanation for the arrow's path; yet there it was, driven into the wall beside his true target.

Grinning at his shocked expression, Constantine gestured with his hands for Oliver to try again.

Now confident that he wasn't about to turn their ally into a petulant pincushion, Oliver drew his bow again and shot four arrows in quick succession. He again refrained from following through with hand-to-hand combat, curious to see how Constantine would meet the attack.

With a slight smirk, Constantine raised his hands and focused the magic around him into a shield. No doubt he could handle these arrows the same way to dispatched the last; however, this exercise was just as much about showing off as it was about training, and John Constantine would never miss the opportunity to cut Oliver Queen down to size.

As an afterthought, he muttered a phrase under his breath to give the shield some color. Absolutely and completely unnecessary, Constantine would be the first to admit it. Yet, it wasn't every day someone had a captive audience, so a little flair could be excused. At least, that's what Constantine told himself when the air around him exploded in a vibrant golden sparks as the arrows struck his shield.

Judging from the shocked gasps behind him, the extra effort wasn't wasted on the team and even Oliver seemed a little star struck.

Still, the vigilante recovered quickly and reached into his quiver to fire off some more arrows with lightning speed. Tiring of this game, Constantine rolled his eyes slightly.

"Secare," he hissed, flicking his wrist sharply to the side.

Across from him, the Green Arrow's bowstring suddenly snapped, shocking the vigilante into a stunned and priceless stupor.

From somewhere behind him, Thea let out a barking laugh.

Accepting the unspoken challenge for what it was, Olivier adjusted quickly and closed the gap between them. Spinning his unstrung bow like a makeshift quarterstaff, Olivier unleashed a powerful blow to the side of the magician's head and steeled himself for any unforeseen retribution from the magician.

Retribution that never came; instead of making solid contact, the bow passed straight through Constantine and the figure before him shimmered slightly, before dissolving in a burst of blinding light.

With a stuttered cry, the Green Arrow cast his gaze around wildly and spotted a trench coat in the corner of his eye. Spinning to his right, Oliver desperately sought to get his bearings and forced any thoughts of how from his mind. During this motion however, he failed to realize the pressure building around his left ankle.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, Constantine tightened his grasp on the force attached to Oliver's ankle and pulled.

Caught completely unawares, Oliver yelped as his leg was pulled out from under him, and he fell on his back in the middle of the Foundry. Ignoring his own heavy breathes and the laughter behind him, Oliver glared darkly at the ceiling above him. "Magic," he hissed under his breath.

Light footsteps approached him and Oliver sighed as a shadow fell over his face.

"You ready?" John Constantine asked innocently, eyes glinting in the light as he offered Oliver a hand.

From his prone position on the floor, Oliver sighed again and accepted the help, wincing slightly at his team howled at him.

"Why do I get the feeling you're just playing with me," he asked Constantine with a self-deprecating laugh.

Constantine simply shrugged. "Well mate, it's pretty easy when you have no defense against magic, and rely on your body or your bow. Simple systems like that? Well, they're any magicians dream: mess up one thing and your entire attacker falls apart."

Oliver nodded seriously, seeing the lesson for what it was. If John could disable him this easily with simple tricks, it didn't take a genius to figure out that he wouldn't stand a chance against real magic or Darhk.

"You really meant it then, when you said Darhk had just been toying with us," Oliver asked softly.

"Aye mate, he could've ended you and your team ages ago," Constantine responded just as seriously.

"Yeah, ok. I see your point now," Olivier answered truthfully. "But why did you agree to have me go with you then, if you know how little I can offer?"

"Ah, that's because I have a special job for you," the Brit responded. "And you're probably not going to like it."

Looking between Constantine and his snickering team, Oliver considered that.

"You know John," he teased good naturedly, "I'm not sure I've enjoyed anything you've done so far. At this point, I'd be afraid if I did."

Constantine merely smirked.

"Come on then, I had enough embarrassment for one day, thank you very much," Oliver said, "and I could use some lunch, Big Belly?" he announced to the room.

From the resulting cheers, Oliver assumed that was a 'yes' and turned to the exorcist. "You want to come? I'm buying."

Grimacing at the memory of the last Big Belly meal, Constantine screwed his face up slightly. "Oliver, mate, I appreciate the offer," he started. "But with Damien Darhk in town, it's best if I don't go around showing my face. I've got something of a distinctive look, and I'd rather catch him by surprise," he finished.

Oliver nodded his understanding, "We'll bring you something back," he promised.

If Constantine's disgruntled look lingered still, Oliver ignored it as he and the team made their way out of the Foundry. Giving him a pitying look, Felicity paused beside him on her way out.

"I'll bring you something green or, at least, not covered in grease," she whispered conspiratorially.

Constantine sighed in relief. "You're a lifesaver, luv," he replied, "I may be damned to hell, but no need to hurry the process, right?"

Felicity looked at him in slight confusion, but hurried to catch up with the team, her bright heels clacking against the floor.

Finally alone, Constantine sighed heavily and cracked his back. While the team certainly meant well, it was difficult to be constantly surrounded by so many strong personalities. How Oliver does it day in and day out, I'll never understand, he thought to himself. After all, there was a reason he usually ran solo. Even Chaz and Zed weren't always around; rather, they tended to appear just in time for a case or when he occasionally called. Even then, he still did a number cases on his own.

Speaking of his own team, Constantine grabbed his dusty brown bag, which had been forgotten in the corner over the course of the past two days. Running a hand through his hair, he placed the bag on the abandoned table and started digging through its contents. When he had packed this bag, he had done so under the assumption he would be returning a lost soul to its body. He certainly hadn't packed with a life-threatening duel in mind. Though, who knew what laid in its depths; even Constantine hadn't reached the bottom of the hexed bag, and he had tried.

Muttering under his breath about shoddy planning and inconvenient necromancers, he started making an inventory of items and began a list of items he hoped Felicity could help him with. While he had plenty of spell ingredients at the millhouse, he prefered to keep the various aspects of his life separate and didn't want to involve his own team in this mess if he could avoid it.

"Lamb's blood, femur of a saint," he muttered under his breath. "No, no, no, worthless, annoying… no," he continued.

"Ah!" he cried out in the empty room. "I've been looking for this for ages!" With a laugh, he pulled out an aged Sex Pistols concert t-shirt. "I mean, not particularly relevant but good find… I bet Chaz put it in there, the annoying bastard was always jealous he missed that show," he murmured darkly.

Placing the shirt reverently to the side, he eyed the growing pile next to him and felt his frustrations rising in turn. With a groan, he reached back in.

"Why don't you organize your shit," he mocked under his breath as he pricked his finger on a loose dagger. "One day your life is gonna count on something in that bag, and you won't be able to find it," he continued.

"Well, Chaz, I don't see you volunteering to clean this bloody thing out, you self righteous prick," the Brit growled. "No, instead you're just going to find my cold body one day, see the bag and say 'Serves him right.' I swear, I will haunt your fucking arse," he spat.

"Ugh, finally!" With a deadly glare, the exorcist pulled out a long wooden board. Pointedly ignoring the fact that physics demanded the board, nevertheless the pile of items next to him, should not fit, Constantine clutched his prize.

"Gopher wood should do the trick quite nicely," he addressed the empty room, ignoring how his voice echoed slightly in the silence.

Scanning the room around him and its lack of windows, Constantine just shrugged and placed the pile under the nearest ventilation shaft. Rubbing his hands together, he paused long enough to consider one thought; I hope this place doesn't have any fire alarms… Surely that wouldn't make any sense.

With a wary glance at the ceiling, he shrugged. "Ignis," he whispered. Immediately, bright flames flickered to life under the wood, eating hungrily at the dry fuel. After a moment's pause, he drew a cigarette and lit it in the flames.

Taking a long drag of the cigarette, Constantine returned to the table and grabbed a miscellaneous dagger. Stealing his nerves for what was about to happen, he returned to the fire and place the blade deep within the flames.

Ignoring the smoke building above him, he removed his shirt and tie, and waited. One cigarette later, he wrapped his hand in the castaway shirt and pulled the dagger from the flames.

"Fucking Damien Darhk," he muttered as he eyed the burning tip warily. With a long-suffering sigh, he turned to blade against his own forearm and drew it quickly across the skin.

Light enough that the blade did not cut and quick enough to avoid permanent burns; Constantine thanked his wards in that regard, he used the knife to sear a series of runes into his skin. Ignoring his trembling hand and pausing to reheat the dagger on occasion, Constantine worked through the sigils he had created the night before. Forearms, shoulders, feet; each placed in a strategic position.

After many long and painful minutes, Constantine could feel himself fairly wilting under the dagger's intense heat. Biting back a bone-deep groan, Constantine placed the blade in the fire for the last time and held out his right forearm. Looking at his shaking left hand and the precise runes on that forearm, he left out a dark laugh.

"Of course I'm fucking right handed," he chuckled weakly. "No spell for ambidexterity."

Gritting his teeth, he grasped the knife again, more than ready to be done with this.

"What are you doing!" a horrified voice cried from the other side of the room.

Shocked, Constantine dropped the knife and jumped shakily to his feet, raising his hands defensively.

Across the room, Felicity and the rest of the team stood in horror at the site in front of them: the fire, the smoke, the knife and the raised burns across Constantine's shirtless body.

Taking in their expressions, Constantine lowered himself slowly and groaned. "This is why I work alone," he muttered.

Running forward, Felicity threw the food she was carrying onto the table and dropped to the floor beside him. The team followed on her heels; Oliver directing Diggle and Thea to grab medical supplies with a look.

"Now, wait a minute," Constantine started, backing away from the gathering mob. "Sweetheart, it's not what it looks like. Though, I don't know what else it would be, so maybe it's exactly what it looks like," he rambled in slight bemusement.

"John, what is going on," Oliver asked with dangerous calm.

Sticking his chin out defiantly and standing tall, Constantine refused to be intimidated by Olivier's towering frame. "I told you once mate, magic comes with a price. This is just the price of this particular spell," he answered darkly.

Diggle and Thea returned with bandages, ice and disinfectant. Passing the supplies to Oliver, they stepped back with the rest of the team and let Oliver deal with the mad exorcist.

"John, I didn't know that this is what you meant. If I had known, I would have agreed to a different plan, I wouldn't have let you -, Oliver started.

"You don't let me do anything Oliver," Constantine cut off sharply. "I'm not part of your bloody team, and you have no business directing me in the occult. These signals will amplify the light-qualities of my pyromancy, and lessen its dark qualities."

"But John, look at yourself," Felicity cried out. "Those burns, surely there was another way."

Constantine shook his head. "The signals only work if they have a connection to fire. Ash, smoke, none of it is strong enough to channel this magic. Without an anchor, the magic will burn me from the inside-out and consume me; believe me, this is the best option."

Biting her lip helplessly, Felicity turned to Oliver.

"John, at least let us treat those," the vigilante started.

"Touch those burns, and I will hex you into next week," the magician growled. "If you touch them, you will corrupt and pollute the channels. Making all of this," he gestured to the fire, "worthless. Leave it."

"John," Oliver started helplessly.

Fighting through the waves of frustration and pain, Constantine snarled. "You asked for powerful magic and powerful magic must be guided through physical channels," he snapped. "Did you think I was just going to show up and wipe away your problems, Oliver? Wave my hands and make Darhk disappear? I told you, this was real. He isn't some pretender; now, if you don't mind, I'd like to finish up here so we aren't all killed later."

Ignoring the eyes on him, he fumbled for the knife and efficiently burned the last of the runes against his forearm. One by one, the team quietly left him to his business. If anyone was concerned about the smoke, the fire or by Constantine himself, they kept it to themselves.

As he finished the last rune and dispelled the fire, Constantine decided he really couldn't care less. With a heavy sigh, he collapsed into his chair and ignored the concerned glances sent his way. Putting his head down, his last thoughts were miles away with his own team as he drifted to sleep.

And if the team was a little extra quiet that evening during their patrols, no one said anything or mentioned the Brit sleeping at the table. Some things were left better unsaid anyways.

* * *

... And that's all she wrote. Don't worry, I'll be back: I'm on break and pretty excited to get back into this. Reviews give me life: what did you like, what did you hate and what would you like to see? Always open for suggestions!


End file.
